On occasion my husband Mr Woog will selflessly cook dinner. On the weekend. And on occasion. Here is a guide on how it all goes down.
- Mr Woog announces in the morning that he is going to cook dinner that night.
- He takes a selection of cookbooks into the bathroom and peruses options for about an hour.
- He chooses the dish he is going to cook and shows it to me. I roll eyes and say "Great."
- Mr Woog then makes an assessment of the pantry and fridge and discovers we have only 3 ingredients that he needs, those being salt, pepper and olive oil. Thus begins the shopping list.
- A trip to the shops sees Mr Woog selecting a $30 Barossa Valley Chicken which the butcher cuts up into 8 bits. He selects the 43 other ingredients needed to complete his dish.
- After lunch he starts to realise that grating 1kg of carrots may take some time. I take this opportunity for a nanna nap. Mr Woog takes to the grater.
- I rise from my nap to find Mr Woog has gone out on his motorbike, clearly having lost a little interest in his quest.
- I put some shoes on the kids, grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and head over to Mrs Finlayson's house around the corner for some much needed catch up gossip. On the table is a note for Mr Woog simply stating "Call me when dinner is on the table".
- 6pm and the kids are getting hungry so we arrive home to find Mr Woog up to his nuts in cooked basmati rice.
- Every dish is out on the bench, including items I did not know we had.
- Mr Woog is a bit huffy and suggested I might like to help him. When I put a slow heat on under a pot, he suggests I do not know what I am doing. I suggest he go and jam it up his clacker and go and watch the news.
- 7pm, make kids toasted sandwiches.
- House smells like oil and tumeric
- Mr Woog announces dinner is served.
- Eat with Mr Woog. The conversation is completely one sided with Mr Woog saying "How good is this?" I point out that it ought to be good as the whole thing cost about as much as my weekly grocery bill.
- Mr Woog has a second helping, commenting on the fact that he was glad he used the organic ginger. I drop tumeric coloured chook on my white top.
- Next morning, house smells like tumeric and Mr Woog rolls over in bed and says "Seriously, how good was dinner last night?"
